


How and by what magic will we someday meet again?

by Hyorangejuice



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, sort of howl's moving castle au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-31
Updated: 2014-08-31
Packaged: 2018-02-15 13:03:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2230050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyorangejuice/pseuds/Hyorangejuice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never pick up things that have fallen on the ground, they might be a dragon that will eat you up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How and by what magic will we someday meet again?

**Author's Note:**

> Written of the universexo fic-exchange 2014 at lj.  
> I fixed it a little. 
> 
> First of all thank you r. for cheering me on till the end sending me gifs of biceps flexing and cute puppies to cheer me up, who nagged me to write and to stop writing. sorry for annoying you with my whining and sorry because I can't promise I won't do it again, but i can promise you'll have a reward for this (you know what i'm talking about). thank you m. for being my number one cheerleader and awesome friend. not to mention g. who had no idea of what I was doing but held my hand nonetheless.  
> Title is from Plastic Tree's Replay.

The rain is pouring down when Joonmyeon clocks out. He hugs his jacket closer to his body, burrows his nose in the little comfort his scarf can offer and makes a run for the bus stop. He hates days like these, when on top of everything else he forgets to bring his umbrella. The squelching of his shoes is deafened by the loud sound of the huge droplets of water that hit the ground with such force that make Joonmyeon wince. By the time he is under the shelter of the bus stop, he's already feeling the cold sweeping through all the layers he is wearing. His hair is probably a mess, never having taken well rain and humidity.  
Fortunately the bus arrives quickly, and Joonmyeon is glad to find the heating on full blast. He sits on the last row of seats, sighing in contentment when he feels the hot air coming out from under his seat. There are three messages on his phone, but he doesn't bother reading them now, instead he focuses on the lights swimming outside the window and lets himself be hypnotized.  
Soon he has to get off, the rain seems to have worsened if possible. Joonmyeon watches the grim sky as he walks down the usual steps wet, slippery and covered in fallen leaves. Already too wet to care, he takes careful steps, shuddering every time a thunder roars through the air. He can already see the faint light on the porch of his building, if he squints he can make out the three steps that lead to the main door. Or maybe it is just wishful thinking.  
He hugs his coat closer, stopping himself from doing something as stupid as running on a muddy road, but then a thunder brightens the air as if it were daylight. It lasts only a second, but it has Joonmyeon cowering a little on himself. He tries to quicken his steps, but his decision quickly backfires when he slips on a patch of wet grass and falls on his hands and knees, splattering mud and whatever else all over himself. _Great_ , Joonmyeon thinks to himself as he tries to regain a standing position and failing miserably, when another, if possible greater, thunder strikes and he instinctively ducks his head. It hit close, if the sound of creaking wood is any indication. There are a few trees by the riverbank, Joonmyeon used to sit under their shadow in spring. Now he won't anymore have the chance, since he is clearly about to die struck by a lightning and none of his limbs seem to find the notion worth trying to coordinate themselves enough for him to stand and rush inside his house. He is going to be another piece on the news, a smooth transition to the weather forecast.  
With a final struggle Joonmyeon manages to get on his feet only to notice that it's not raining anymore, not on him anyway. Because he can clearly see rain pouring not two meters ahead and all around him. Maybe he is not going to die struck by a thunder, maybe he is about to be kidnapped by aliens. His horoscope didn't mention any of this shit when Baekhyun read it to him that morning, perched precariously over the register as Joonmyeon waited for his order.  
Mustering all the bravery that he has left, Joonmyeon looks up and oh. Oh. There is a hole in the sky, a legit hole, and it looks very much like the mouth of a monster ready to swallow him whole. The darkness inside the hole is disheartening, it looks like a pool of nothingness and Joonmyeon is left watching, hypnotized.  
Running is still not really his best option, but when he sees a huge sort-of-snake come out of the gaping blackness of the hole, Joonmyeon thinks he just might just try. Yet his legs won't listen to him, his feet are glued to the ground, eyes as wide as they could go as he watches the monster spiraling towards the ground.  
It is falling hard and fast, and the nearer it gets the more it looks like a fucking dragon, lean and snake-like with scales that glimmer when the thunders strike in the distance. These could be the last moments of his sorry life, but at least he has seen something as magnificent as this.  
The rain is pouring again, stronger than before. Joonmyeon follows the the creatures with his eyes until it reaches the ground with a loud thud half-drowned by the rain, on the riverbank. He blinks once, twice, trying to see beyond the wall of rain and when he blinks again the snake-like creature is gone, replaced by a limp body clearly of a more human variety.  
The body is frighteningly still and Joonmyeon is torn between taking his chances and run the fuck home and slide down the bank to go take a closer look. But since his life has turned in a very sorry excuse of every fantasy cliché ever created, he decides to be a little brave.  
The lump in the dirt is taller than Joonmyeon, bigger even, that much is obvious right away, as he approaches. He doesn't let himself be deterred, though, and keeps advancing on unsteady feet until he is standing right beside the body. _It_ has fallen flat on its face and Joonmyeon is pleased to notice no limbs are bent at particularly painful angles, then again Joonmyeon can't help but notice the charred skin that shows where its clothes have ripped. With a very vague idea on how to check someone's pulse – provided this thing _has_ a pulse – Joonmyeon crunches on his knees.  
Then _it_ groans.  
Joonmyeon holds his breath, hand frozen mid-movement. It does it again, but this time the groan is accompanied by a jerk and a very clear and unmistakeable “Fuck” that has Joonmyeon fall on his ass with surprise. With a little struggle the man – Joonmyeon is now pretty sure of it despite whatever he might have assumed before – coughing rolls on his back going still again for a long moment, giving Joonmyeon a chance to look at him properly for the first time.  
Pitch black hair are sticking to his forehead and barely reach his eyebrows, which are thick and furrowed. The slope of his nose is nice and not too prominent while his lips are a little small for his face and are frozen in a grimace. All in all it is a pretty frightening sight, Joonmyeon thinks.  
He focuses on his closed eyelids, on his wet lashes and almost swallows his tongue when the man's eyes open and stare at him so intensely he thinks he might be trying to set him on fire

“Who are you?” the words are uttered very slowly and with a weird cadence, but Joonmyeon is too stunned to answer. It doesn't really look like he wants an answer anyway, since his eyes are already moving past Joonmyeon. 

“I'm back here again,” he mutters under his breath and scoffs. “I-... ” he starts, but he doesn't really get a chance to finish when a thunder soars through the darkened sky, making both of them flinch for totally different reasons, Joonmyeon would later discover. The guy tries to stand, but only manages to roll on his side with a grunt. 

“Are you planning on staring all day or are you going to help?” he says sounding annoyed and a lot more pained than before. Deciding to disregard the total lack of manners, Joonmyeon regains his footing and helps him up. Once standing the guy is a good head taller than Joonmyeon and that is not comforting in the least. 

The guy's grip on the back of Joonmyeon's jacket is very strong, as they struggle up the bank and on to the street. At least the rain seems to be letting up. Joonmyeon takes a side look at the guy and finds him struggling to breath. If he were to faint even with all his goodwill Joonmyeon is not going to be able to carry him anywhere. 

“Look,” the guy says taking another long, shuddering breath. “I know this might sound weird... ”

“Weirder than a huge white snake falling from a hole in the clouds that turned human? I highly doubt it,” he laughs, high-pitched and borderline hysteric, but he figures he is entitled to a little bit of a freak out. The guy is probably regretting falling near a weirdo like him.

“Well then, I need a safe place where I can lie down for a little while and recharge.”

“Like a phone?” Joonmyeon asks, maybe stupidly waiting for the guy to pull a plug out of his ass. 

“No, like sleeping,” he deadpans with a _duh_ expression that makes Joonmyeon feel even smaller. 

They take a few steps ahead, Joonmyeon unconsciously walking them towards his red bricked condominium, and then it hits him, the subtle hint the guy is giving him. 

“In my house?” he receives a silent nod in response and he stops on his tracks. “Are you seriously expecting me to take you, person fallen from the sky, to _my_ house? You could be an alien after my brain!”

“I'm not after your brain, Joonmyeon,” he sighs as if he were dealing with a stubborn child. “But someone is after mine and if you helped me there would be great rewards for you” 

Joonmyeon peers up at the other skeptically. “Rewards?”

The guy smirks confidently and Joonmyeon feels a little toyed with. 

 

The trek towards Joonmyeon's house is exhausting. Halfway there Kris – as the dragon-man introduced himself after a beat too long of awkward silence – starts to find it harder to stand and leans almost completely on Joonmyeon, who, for all his good intentions, is not really what you'd call a stud. Climbing the narrow stairs is itself a challenge, but with a little maneuvering they manage to get to Joonmyeon's floor before sunrise, and most importantly before any of the tenants can see them. 

“This is it,” Joonmyeon puffs out in one shaky breath, reaching for the light switch. It's a nice apartment, in Joonmyeon's opinion, big enough not to feel claustrophobic and small enough to push him to keep his natural disorganized chaos under control. His room is on the left, in front of the small bathroom and the kitchen takes up the left corner of the main room. He has a tiny storage room where he keeps clothes and the sports equipments he bought, but never used.  
Kris has his brows furrowed in a contemplative look, his breath has evened out, but Joonmyeon can feel the ribs struggling to make room for air under his fingertips. Between dark locks of hair, Joonmyeon can see leaves and grass sticking out, and his face is half-covered in mud. Joonmyeon himself probably doesn't look much better. 

“You might want to wash up,” Joonmyeon ventures and that seems to shake Kris out of whatever loop he was in, because he nods and tries to take a step ahead. His legs sway, and Joonmyeon catches his arm, managing to keep him up. Like that they reach Joonmyeon's bathroom and Kris seems a little more steady on his feet with each step, waving Joonmyeon off when he is about to step inside with him. Kris wobbles in, leaning on the door for support and when Joonmyeon tries to offer clothes, the door is slammed in his face.  
He is still standing there, baffled, when Kris opens the door, barely two minutes later, terrifyingly pale but surprisingly clean and wearing a new set of more comfortable and less shredded clothes. 

“What. The. Fuck.” he didn't even hear water running, or any kind of noise coming from the bathroom for that matter. Kris smirks a little at his bafflement, seemingly very pleased with himself. His satisfaction doesn't last long, though, because he has barely passed the threshold when his knees give out. 

“Easy there,” Joonmyeon chides, catching Kris by the elbows before he could get acquainted with the floor of Joonmyeon's apartment. 

The dragon's skin is surprisingly cold under his fingertips, and despite looking just like Joonmyeon's there is something different in the way it feels as Joonmyeon's fingers trail down the toned forearms. Something Joonmyeon has a hard time to pinpoint. 

“Let's get you to bed.” he murmurs, seeing how Kris keeps blinking to keep his eyes open. 

Without a choice on the matter, Joonmyeon helps his unexpected guest in his bed. As soon as he lays his head on Joonmyeon's pillow, Kris falls into a deep slumber, leaving Joonmyeon standing in the semi-darkness of his bedroom with a very vague idea of what he has just gotten himself into.  
Not really up for too much thinking and pondering, Joonmyeon takes a hot shower, to wash away mud, rain and bad thoughts gnawing at the back of his mind. The water burns on his skin, relaxing his tensed muscles and making him feel human again. He grabs the first thing he finds on the back of his desk chair and falls face-first on his couch. 

 

The morning after Joonmyeon wakes with a start. Sitting up too quickly for his sore neck, and he immediately regrets not taking a little time to dry his hair the night before. 

“Good Morning,” the greeting comes from the kitchen. Joonmyeon whips his head around and grimaces, both from the sight and from the sharp pain that seizes his neck. “I brought coffee.”

Sitting on the counter of Joonmyeon's kitchen, Kris looks dashingly handsome, that much Joonmyeon has to admit. From his invisible closet he dug out another flattering, albeit a little eccentric, outfit that seems to be sewed to his skin. He is also very much blonde. 

“Are you blonde?” he asks. 

Kris laughs, showing his rosy gums and two rows of perfect teeth, and takes a lock of hair between his thumb and forefinger peering up at it curiously. “It seems so,” he says, amused by his own humor. 

“What are you? A dinamo? Changing colour when you charge?” Joonmyeon struggles to stand and joins Kris in the kitchen, taking the offered tumbler of coffee when Kris puts it in his line of vision. It's good, too good, caressing Joonmyeon's nostrils with a heavenly aroma and his taste buds with a divine taste to match. Nothing like the instant coffee he brews himself as he rushes out of the house in the morning for his shift. “Is this your thank you for last night?”

Kris smiles, deceivingly sweet. “If you want it to be.” 

Joonmyeon takes another sip of his coffee and pulls out a chair to take a seat. “So... You are completely fine now?”

“Yes, I am, thank you for asking, but there is still one thing that you have to help me with,” the way Kris says it makes it particularly obvious that he does not like this one bit. Joonmyeon folds one of his legs and hugs it to his chest, resting his chin on his bent knee. Kris sets aside his own paper cup, Joonmyeon notices that the name scribbled on it is Kevin, not Kris, but in the morning rush mistakes are frequent so he pays no mind to it. 

“There are rules where I come from. Ancient, useless rules that us, magical creatures, must abide to in order to maintain the natural order of things. Some of them are especially useless, like this one,” he scoffs, displeased and then fixes Joonmyeon with an unreadable stare. “You saved my ass last night and now I owe you a wish.” he says it all in one breath, like it physically pains him.

“A wish?” weren't wishes given by genies? Magic rings? Joonmyeon is not an expert about these things. “And I can wish for anything?”

Kris nods, perking up a little. “Rules, there are rules though. No resuscitating, no making people fall in love, no killing and no asking for more wishes. You can ask for anything else, money, a villa, a new wardrobe... ” 

Dragging up his other leg Joonmyeon puts aside his empty tumbler. This one has 'Jia' written on the side. He starts wondering if Kris hasn't stolen these from some poor souls who weren't quick enough to grab their orders. The thought catches him a little off guard and, like the first piece of a domino, sets off a whole new set of questions. Is Kris even his real name? Is he just bullshitting him to swindle him out of his underwear? A dragon? A goddamn dragon is sitting in his kitchen wearing disturbingly tight leather pants and the jacket of a high-school marching band director. Is this even real? Or is he in a coma and this is all a figment of his imagination?  
The doorbell rings then, and Joonmyeon almost falls off his chair, while Kris rolls his eyes. He scrambles up, quickly going for the door when whoever stands on the other side seems well bent on abusing his bell as much as they can. It's Sehun, the high-schooler who part-times as the doorman's helper. He is wearing a surgical mask and a knitted black beanie, Joonmyeon can only see his eyes and the dark bags that make them look even smaller than usual.

“H-hi, Sehun,” he stutters out, trying to block the sight of Kris in his kitchen with the door. 

“'Morning, hyung. I got your mail,” Sehun hands him two white envelops and a couple of fliers from nearby eateries. Joonmyeon smiles and, trying to look and sound normal, attempts at making small talk. Clearly Kris doesn't like to wait, because while Sehun is telling him about his upcoming algebra test, they hear a deafening sound of pots falling. 

“You got company, hyung?” Sehun fidgets on his feet, probably trying to stop himself from peering inside. 

“A cat,” Joonmyeon improvises. “A very annoying stray cat I picked up.”

He quickly dismisses Sehun, and is a little sorry about the clear look of curiosity that brightened up his puffy eyes at the mention of a feline. When he goes back to the kitchen he finds Kris with two of the three pots Joonmyeon owns in both his hands, ready to strike again.

“So, we were saying... a wish. Come on,” he urges, putting the pots back in the cabinet. Joonmyeon liked him better when he was battered up and newly fallen from the sky.  
Not really wanting to give up just yet, he decides that if this is such a huge matter than he must not take things lightly, and wish the first thing that comes to his mind. Like never getting fat, or for food to endlessly pop up in his fridge every time he opens it. 

“I need to think about it,” he says, nonchalantly tossing away the empty cups. When he looks at Kris, the other seems particularly displeased at the way things turned out.  
Very displeased.

 

Joonmyeon's main source of income is a shop called 'Black Beard'. No one sports a beard inside, Joonmyeon doubts any of the workers could ever grow a beard if they wanted to, but it was a cool enough name for a tattoo shop. Joonmyeon is not a tattoo artist, and last time he checked he still fainted at the sight of needles. He is basically a glorified secretary. He takes appointment, orders supplies of ink, towels, needles, jostles between indecisive clients and entertains those who come with their clients, but are too grossed out or scared to actually go in. It's lots of work, with Zitao and Chanyeol's growing popularity and expanding fanbase. 

“If you could wish for one thing, what would you wish for?” he asks, twirling on his plump chair behind the counter. He is checking the inventory before making their usual monthly order, while Zitao goes over the schedule of the day Joonmyeon has prepared for him. 

“Only one thing?” Zitao furrows his brows and ponders for a moment. “Maybe the perfect tattoo? The inspiration to finally draw my masterpiece?” 

“Aren't all of them your masterpieces?” Joonmyeon teases, and Zitao sticks his tongue out.

“You know what I mean,” he says and then disappears in the backroom to prepare for his first appointment. 

It's been three days since Kris all but stomped out of Joonmyeon's apartment, leaving him with very a very confusing idea on how to find him if he ever decided what to wish for. In these three days he has thought about it long and hard, but every time he thought he had found the _thing_ something else popped up, sounding reasonable and obvious, and Joonmyeon was at loss again.  
The bell over the door jingles and Joonmyeon has on his business smile in a second, but he is surprised to find Kris, wearing a denim jumpsuit, at the door. His hair looks windswept and he has a orange scarf wrapped haphazardly around his neck. 

“I haven't decided yet,” he blurts out. Kris nods sagely. “I know,” he answers and walks further in, looking a little aggravated. “I'm here to get a piercing.”

“Oh,” Joonmyeon takes out the scheduler he keeps in the first drawer and flips some pages trying to find their first open slot. “Two weeks from now, Thursday at two, how does that sound?”

“Joonma, I think we need to move the three o'clock-... Oh, hi, are you a new costumer?” Tao fixes the glasses on the bridge of his nose and gives Kris a once over. Joonmyeon would very much like to hit him with the scheduler he has at hand. 

“Yes,” Kris' voice is mellow, and his smile is small and calculated, “Joonmyeon here talked so well about you that I had to come see for myself.”

Tao looks far too pleased for Joonmyeon's liking, flattery always has its way with him. “Are you here for a tattoo or... ”

“A piercing, actually, but Joonmyeon here tells me I'll have to come back in two weeks to get it done.”

Kris looks honestly disappointed, with his hands in the back pockets of his jumpsuit and the look of a kicked puppy. Tao is sold in 0.2 seconds.

“Well, I have time now... If it's not too soon,” he offers with a little challenging smirk. 

The work room where the 'magic takes place', is very neat and organized. If Joonmyeon squints hard enough he can almost see the think invisible line that splits the room in two even halves. The room follows a 'system', much like in Feng Shui, Zitao's principles organize the room into a even flow of perfect functionality. Joonmyeon was there when the furniture was delivered, it was a peculiar sight. Zitao waving a ruler and Chanyeol, his lanky business partner, pushing and moving stuff around until it was exactly like Tao wanted them. That said it's clear which side belongs to Chanyeol and which side belongs to Zitao, even if with the years the line has began smudging a little.  
Zitao leads Kris to the reclining chair, Kris looks positively impressed by the thousands of pictures of tattoos that are plastered on the wall opposite from the door. 

“You made all these?” he asks, squinting at some more intricate designs. 

“Yes... well no. I'm not the only one working here,” Zitao answers, as he looks for a sterile needle and the box of assorted studs for Kris to choose from. 

Kris hums and then removes his scarf, draping it on the back of the chair. He makes himself comfortable and then looks for Joonmyeon, who is still standing on the door, ready to bolt as soon as any pointy objects are drawn out, but at the same time reluctant to leave Tao and Kris alone. When Kris catches his eyes, Joonmyeon swallows audibly. 

“Aren't you going to hold my hand?” Kris asks in a pleading tone very much unlike what Joonmyeon is accustomed hearing. There is a challenge in Kris' eyes and Joonmyeon hesitates for a second before stepping inside the room for the first time, since Zitao measured the thirty-five centimeters between the potted plant and the drawing desk and decided they were ready for business. He walks towards Kris, and takes the outstretched hand, noticing how much warmer Kris feels today.  
Joonmyeon is already feeling queasy, when he hears the sound of the plastic wrap of the needle being torn. Zitao is wearing his customary green gloves, and smiles pleasantly from the other side of Kris, probably in a futile attempt to placate Joonmyeon's nerves.

“You ready?” Zitao asks cheerfully as he clasps and unclasps the small pliers. 

Joonmyeon's grip is a little tight on Kris' hand, but the other doesn't seem to find much discomfort in that, he even squeezes back a little. Predictably, when the needle is about to pierce Kris' cartilage, Joonmyeon faints. 

 

The bagel is still hot, and the latte is sugary enough for Joonmyeon to start feeling his limbs again. After he came to his senses, with Zitao looming over him and Kris holding his legs up, Zitao all but pushed them out of the shop to get Joonmyeon something to eat, even calling Chanyeol to cover for him at the front desk.  
Kris had steered him around the flow of people with a steady hand on his elbow, and lead him towards a coffee shop not too far. He sat him down, ordered him the most sugary thing on the menu and a bagel, and there they are now, sitting near the entrance between a table of girls who keep looking at Kris with a mixture between lust and fear, and a couple who who is about to throw their coffees in each other faces. 

“So,” Joonmyeon begins and Kris, who was looking pensively in his cup, peers up. “A piercing? Couldn't you have just... I don't know, called?”

Apparently Kris thinks he's being funny, because he laughs, gummy and with a little too much adorableness for Joonmyeon to process. Then he reaches for his brand new earring, taking it between his fingers. The skin is still red and it looks painful to touch, but Kris doesn't seem to feel any kind of pain as he tugs at the little piece of metal, slowly at first, then more firmly, until Joonmyeon is sure he is going to rip the skin. That doesn't happen though, Kris tugs a little stronger and the stud comes off, just like that, and any traces of the piercing are gone. 

“What the-... ” 

Kris wriggles his fingers in front of Joonmyeon's face. “Magic.”

After that Kris also freezes his drink, makes the bagel whole again after Joonmyeon has eaten more than half, and gives in to Joonmyeon's request of making a quarter appear behind his ear. When they walk back towards the shop, Joonmyeon has a bagel for Zitao and Chanyeol to split in his pocket. 

“Aren't you curious, though?” Kris asks, as they round a corner. 

They walk so close that their shoulders bump, and Joonmyeon has the feeling that Kris is actually leading him somewhere, nudging Joonmyeon as if he were a cub.

“Curious about what?” he asks, stuffing his hands in the pockets of his jacket. 

“I'm a dragon,” Kris scoffs. “Don't you want to know if it's true I live in a cavern?” 

“You live in a cavern?” 

“No!” 

“Do you spit fire?”

“No, I'm a water dragon thank you very much.”

“Do you kidnap princesses in your spare time?” 

“Ok, ok, I got it,” Kris rises his hands in surrender and Joonmyeon laughs patting his back in apology. 

“About one thing I'm curious, what exactly did I save you from?”

“Hunters,” Kris whispers, Joonmyeon almost misses it. There is a tightness in Kris' shoulders, he stands somehow taller with his back straight as a wire. It's a subtle shift, but it makes Joonmyeon shudder how his demeanor changed in a split of a second. “There are many things one can do with a dragon, both dead and alive.”

Just then Joonmyeon notices they've stopped walking, when he looks around he realizes they are back at Black Beard. Inside, Chanyeol is sitting in Joonmyeon's chair bent over the desk probably working on a new design. Chanyeol's first appointment for the is at three thirty, Joonmyeon recalls. 

“You should go in, we've been out for quite some time,” Kris takes a step back and wriggles his fingers in goodbye. “I'll see you.”

Taking the bagel out of his pocket Joonmyeon pushes the shop's door open, startling Chanyeol out of his creative spree. 

“Joonmyeon!” Chanyeol's voice sounds edges on panicked. “Where have you been?”

Before Joonmyeon can say anything Zitao appears from the back. “Is Joonmyeon ba-... Where have you been!?”

Joonmyeon has no idea of what the fuss is about, he was just out for coffee and it was Zitao who pushed them both out of the shop. Yet, both Chanyeol and Zitao look at him as if he had just grown another head. He holds out the paper bag with the still hot bagel and deposits it on the front desk. 

“Out for coffee, you saw me going out. I brought you a bagel,” he says pointing at the paper bag. 

There is a moment of silence, Chanyeol and Zitao exchange a look Joonmyeon doesn't like, it makes him feel like the irresponsible son of two worrywarts parents. 

“Hyung,” Zitao is the one to speak first. “It's almost three in the afternoon.”

He points at the huge vintage clock hanging on the wall behind the desk. It's something Chanyeol picked up at a flea market long before the idea of the shop had even began forming, that's the only clock allowed in the shop, since Zitao can't stand them and Chanyeol can't be bothered with checking the time while he works. Joonmyeon keeps it dusted and properly working, so he knows it can't be wrong when it says it's two-fifty-one. 

 

 

The following days pass in a blur. Joonmyeon expects Kris to pop out of nowhere asking him about his wish, but he never does. Joonmyeon would think he has imagined everything, if not for the fact that Zitao has seen and touched Kris himself. At least he is not alone in this madness. He would like to ask Kris how he managed to make time pass so fast, or if they really had been out that long and Joonmyeon just didn't notice. He feels robbed, taken for a fool and he wants to know why Kris would do something like that.  
It's the fifth day since Kris' visit at Black Beard. Joonmyeon has spent half of his day off baby-sitting his nephew while his sister got his hair done, and the second half of it being dragged around by Jongin to find a present for his girlfriend-to-be. He wasn't of much help, but Jongin seemed satisfied enough with his offhand commentary on colours and sizes and the latest trend in charms.  
When he walks back home from the bus stop the streetlights are beginning to light up. Unconsciously, he speeds up, where another weird creature fall from the sky to mess up with his life even more. A light breeze picks up, making him shiver in his light jacket, and a weird sort of cold seems to penetrate through his skin. It's unsettling and it makes the hair at the back of his head rise. It feels almost like fear. He looks over his shoulder just to make sure no one is following him, and indeed the road is completely empty. The rational side of him wants to laugh at his childishness, but it takes him a lot of self-control not to break into a run.  
Relief washes over him as soon as he locks his front door. He turns on all the lights and throws himself on the couch, trying to determine how much effort he is willing to put into his dinner of if he should just order a pizza.  
The knocking on the front door almost has him fall off the couch. It resonates in the silent apartment, insistent and ominous. His heart is pounding, irrationally so, and he holds his breath as he waits, for what he is not sure. He should get to the door, but he sits frozen on the edge of his couch until the knocking stops.

“Hyung! I saw the light on!” it's Sehun's voice coming from the other side of the door. Joonmyeon would laugh at himself if he weren't feeling still so weak at his knees as he walks to the door. 

Sehun is standing on his heels, he nervously looks left and right, when Joonmyeon opens the door he wriggles his fingers in greeting. “Hi, hyung. Mind if I come in?” is all he says before he is pushing past Joonmyeon inside the apartment. 

“Sehun shouldn't you-... What the hell!?” when Joonmyeon turns back around there is no Oh Sehun standing in his living area, but a tall, and slightly wrecked, Kris. What immediately catches Joonmyeon's eyes is his hair, which is of a dark brown instead of the honey blonde they were last time he saw him. Then he takes in the air of urgency and worry that surrounds him and thinks that maybe something must really be wrong. 

“I'm sorry to come unannounced, but the situation called for extreme measures... ” he tries to smooth the wrinkles of his shirt, pulling at the hem, but with scarce success. It seems more of a nervous tic than anything else. “Are you all right?” he asks suddenly, scrutinizing Joonmyeon from head to toe, probably looking for something wrong.

“Yes, but you don't look too well,” Joonmyeon gestures for him to seat. Kris seems to think about it for a moment, but then decides against it, beckoning Joonmyeon closer. 

“It's nothing,” he says, much to quickly for Joonmyeon to believe him. “But I need you to make your wish now, we must... you must retrieve it now before it's too late.”

The thing about this complex is that it's far enough from the bristling city that its noises are just a faint echo, easily negligible and for the same reason all other noises are amplified in the silence. The hurried steps coming from the hallway just on the other side of Joonmyeon's door feel like explosions in Joonmyeon's ears, making his heart jump at an unnatural rhythm. Kris' reaction is what 

“Joonmyeon, we can't delay this any longer,” Kris is standing in front of him now, his eyes pierced into Joonmyeon's with such an intensity that Joonmyeon forgets about whoever, whatever is about to break into his apartment, and lets a relieving reassurance wash over him. “I want to help you, but you must use your wish for me to do so, you understand me?” 

Joonmyeon nods and Kris' lips twitch in a sort of relieved smile. “I need you to wish to step on the Other Side. The formulation is very important Joonmyeon, you have to say the words as carefully and as precisely as you can.”

The world seems to have gone silent. Still not really able to collect himself, Joonmyeon tries to find the reassurance he needs in the weight of Kirs' hands on his shoulders, but he finds he cannot. What he finds instead is a nauseating dread that clogs his windpipe, and pushes him to take a step back from Kris. 

“You... ” the steps have picked up again, they sound closer, Joonmyeon can almost feel the ground vibrate with the force of them under his feet, or maybe is just his blood madly pulsing in his veins. “What's the other side? Why should I wish to go there?”

Kris tries to have him look into his eyes again, but Joonmyeon avoids them, fearing what Kris might have him do once he does. Stubbornly, he keeps his eyes trained on the tip of Kris' boots, which are covered in dirt and mud. 

“Because I can't take you there on my own accord, it's not allowed,” Kris' voice comes out a little strained, like he's trying very hard not to snap. “But you need to because otherwise they will take you away!”

“Who will?” Joonmyeon demands. His patience is thinning by the second. The fear that just moments ago was seizing him is steadily being replaced by a boiling anger that makes his temple pulse from the force of it. He clenches his hands in fists and rises his eyes, looking straight in to Kris' light brown ones. Whatever magic shit Kris is trying to pull it won't work on him, it won't.

Kris looks about ready to slap him, his are brows furrowed in an angry scowl. “The hunters, I brought them here and now th-... ”

The first bang is so strong an old photo of Joonmyeon with his sister falls from where it was hanging on the wall. 

“Joonmyeon,” Kris pleads, gripping Joonmyeon by the arm and dragging him towards Joonmyeon's bedroom. “We really don't have time, please.”

The door of Joonmyeon's bedroom slams closed at the same time as a loud cracking sound signals the departure of the front door. They are in, Joonmyeon can see their metaphorical breath on his neck, it makes him shudder and when he hears those ominously heavy step in the corridor he instinctively turns to look. There is nothing there, nothing, but Joonmyeon can feel them coming, inching closer and closer, reaching out to grab them... 

“Joonmyeon!” Kris's grip on his arm tightens, urging him on until they are standing in front of Joonmyeon's bedroom door. 

“I wish to step on the other side!” he screams at the top of his lungs. Kris smirks and... knocks on Joonmyeon's bedroom door. “What the hell are you doing?”

When Kris opens the door, though, there is no trace of Joonmyeon's unmade bed, nor of the pile of laundry he had planned to occupy his evening with. There is instead a street, large and filled with people going about there business, with vendors selling fruits and food Joonmyeon can actually smell as if they were... real. Without much ceremony Kris drags him on the other side of the threshold and slams the door behind them. 

 

No warning comes before Kris throws a heavy cape over Joonmyeon's head asking: “Do you think you could limp a little?”

A poignant smell of gutter assaults his nostrils and the dust sprinkling down from the cape makes Joonmyeon sneeze. Kris fixes the cape over his shoulders and then lays there a heavy arm, making Joonmyeon bend a little. With the heavy cloth completely obstructing his vision Joonmyeon can only cling onto whatever part of Kris he can reach. The gravel of the pavement is slippery, and slightly irregular, still they move quickly and soon Kris removes the heavy cape. Finally freed, Joonmyeon takes a deep breath and takes in his surroundings. They are standing at the end of a long stair, in a narrow and dark alley. The two tall buildings hugging the street are made of stones, small and big, forming a colorful mosaic. Joonmyeon blinks rapidly, trying to focus on the intricate design and stumbles on on his feet, feeling a little light headed. He can still hear the many noises coming from the market they materialized in, but it's muffled, as if there were cotton stuffed inside Joonmyeon's ears. His stomach is protesting like he had just stepped down from a roller-coaster and he has a hard time swallowing around the lump in his throat. Kris reaches to steady him and he lets him not really trusting his legs to keep him up for much longer. 

“Breathe, Joonmyeon, like that,” Kris runs his hands up and down Joonmyeon's arms, soothing him, until he feels himself again.

“Wha-... what was that?” he asks all in a breath. 

Kris chuckles, looking thoroughly amused by the flabbergasted look on Joonmyeon's face. Tugging the hem of Joonmyeon's sleeve he tugs him up the stairs. 

“That was a little parallel world-hopping sickness. It's normal the first few times.” Kris has a spring in his step, almost skipping up the stairs as Joonmyeon struggles to keep up with everything going on around him.  
On top of the stairs he can see a less busy street, with people leisurely walking around in colorful clothes that look a mixture between east and west. Suddenly Joonmyeon feels self-conscious about his plain grey cardigan and dark washed jeans, smoothing them down with nervous hands. When he turns to Kris he sees that his escort has changed from the rumpled white shirt he was wearing when he basically barged into Joonmyeon's apartment to a blue three piece suit that snugly hugged his figure. 

“We should get going, we don't want to be late,” Kris urged him to move with a hand on the small of Joonmyeon's back, guiding him through many more alleys and busy streets, not really leaving room fro Joonmyeon to take a proper look around. “There will be time for that later,” is what Kris says when Joonmyeon asks about it. 

They turn left, right, then left again, then up the stairs into a sort of shady covered market then down again through a sea of people that menaces to swallow Joonmyeon. When he looks up there are kites of all colours and shapes somersaulting against the pale blue sky. Kris has a firm hold on Joonmyeon waist, his arm having sneaked there as soon as they dived into the crowd. His hold is firm enough that Joonmyeon almost doesn't need to walk, barely has to let the current lead him. 

“It's a big festivity today, birthday of the king or something like that,” Kris' voice is almost drowned by a loud explosion of confetti that shower the cheerful crowd that 'oohs' and 'aahs' accordingly. 

All around them people exchange greetings, shaking hands and going as far as hugging when there is enough room to. He sees chains of young girls holding hands who cut through the crowd dressed in beautiful long gowns and donning colorful flowery crowns on their heads. They seem to be humming a tune, but it gets lost in the chit-chatter and general chaos. 

“Who are they?” he asks Kris, tugging at the back of his jacket to get his attention. 

“The muses of festivities. They dance and sing to assure good weather for the duration of the celebration. The flowers on their crowns are called wellwish, they grow in the meadow and the girls pick them at the dawn of the first day. Then they walk back into the city braiding the stems of the flowers into crowns and when they are done they begin to sing and the celebration can start.” 

Kris quickens his steps, dragging Joonmyeon along like a rag doll, soon they are walking down a less crowded street and Kris lets go of his hold on Joonmyeon. He straightens his suit and motions to Joonmyeon to follow him. They don't go far, stopping in front of a red door that has a note nailed on. _'Business suspended for all festivities'_ is written in a thin and hurried handwriting. Kris takes the note and crumples it in his fist, giving a small knock before opening the door. 

From the outside the building looks exactly like all the others, six pair of windows evenly distributed on six floors, on a pale yellow facade. What greets them inside is nothing of sorts. There are few steps ahead of them and Kris, with his much too long legs, jumps them all at once in his haste. 

“I'm home!” he calls, to whom, Joonmyeon doesn't know. 

There is no immediate answer to Kris' greeting and all he can hear is some rustling and a fire crackling. He takes the step one at times with heavy feet, not confident of being able to handle much else after all Kris threw at him in the span of a few minutes. Or was it hours? It could be, he feels so tired, so drained all of a sudden. 

“It was about time!” a voice finally answers, but Joonmyeon can't really tell where it comes from. 

Kris is bent over the fire, feeding it thin logs to keep it going. From where he stands on top of the stairs, Joonmyeon can feel the heat radiating from it warming his skin. The whole room has it center in the big round fireplace, as it were built all around it like branches around the trunk of the tree. Where chimney, that hangs over the fire like a reversed mushroom, disappears in the ceiling a sun spreads his orange a yellow rays. They spread all over the ceiling turning into animals and other weird symbols that cover the entirety of the ceiling. The whistling of a kettle breaks the silence and Joonmyeon notices it hanging just above the fire. 

“Come sit, I'll bring you tea,” Kris appears on his left and seats him down on a wooden chair right in front of the fire. Usually Joonmyeon can only handle a few seconds standing so close to a fire, but this one spreads a comforting warmth all over him that almost has him draw the chair closer to sink more into it. Before Kris can fill a cup with hot water, Joonmyeon has already fallen asleep. 

 

When he wakes Joonmyeon does so with a start. He throws off the heavy quilt that was draped over him, and sits up almost giving himself whiplash from the force of it. Beside his bed there is a man, quite short and grinning, clearly amused. He has white hair that fall in artfully messy mop on his head, reaching just above his brows, that are of an unsettling intense black, much like his dancing eyes. 

“Good morning,” he chirps, putting aside a small green bottle. “Or should I say good evening? You wouldn't wake up so I had to resort to... stronger methods.” his eyes flit to the green bottle that now rests on the nightstand beside the bed. 

“Who are you?” is the first logic question that pops out of his mouth. 

“Ah, that is a good question,” the man hops on the bed and sits with his legs crossed at the end of it. He is wearing a blood red kimono with golden flowers sewn all over, tied messily around the waist with an obi made of black silk, so that when he sits on the bed too much skin is revealed for Joonmyeon's comfort. It doesn't help that the guy's skin is as pale as the moon on a clear day. Attached to a thin pale necklace, a small round sphere made of glass dangles from his neck. Inside the sphere a little violet star, a real star, shines and seems to be pulsing every time the man moves. 

“Who do you think I am?” the guys seems amused, his smile is as mischievous as it is attractive and it makes Joonmyeon unconsciously draw back, until his spine is flush against the bedpost. “Come on! Take a guess!”

“Are you a friend of Kris'?” Joonmyeon ventures, trying to humor him. 

That makes the man laughs, bright as the sound of a hundred bells. “You could say that I am.” he nods to himself, and looks back at Joonmyeon expectantly.

“I'm sorry, but should I know the answer?” 

As he says so a chandelier hanging from the ceiling catches Joonmyeon's eye. It hangs right above the bed, swaying a little from the breeze that comes in from the slightly open window. Drops of coloured glass fall at different heights, swaying gently with the slight breeze coming from the open window. 

“It's called dream-chatcher, nothing more that a fancy glass, really,” the man looks pensively at the oscillating glass. “It's pretty, though, don't you think? Jiaheng likes to pick up this sort of things, a memento from the places he visits. Looks like this time he really leveled up... ”

The look he gives Joonmyeon next is still amused, but there is a hint of worry there, buried under the bold front the man seems so keen on keeping up. It reminds Joonmyeon of someone else, a shy junior he had met in high-school, small square shoulders he used to lean on on the bus home from school. 

“Who are you?” Joonmyeon asks again, this time expecting an answer.

“I'm Chen,” the man finally answers. “and I understand you need my assistance. Come on, we already wasted half of the day waiting for you to wake up.”

Very ungracefully, Joonmyeon scrambles out of bed following Chen out of the door. Outside there is a circular room, in the middle of it the chimney of the fireplace continues its journey towards the roof, and radiates heat to warm up pleasantly the whole floor. When he steps on the smooth wood of the parquet, Joonmyeon realizes he is not wearing shoes, and neither is Chen. He makes a mental note to ask after his beloved new Nike later.  
He counts four closed doors before Chen is dragging him down a narrow set of wooden stairs. 

“Bathroom is always the third door on the right,” he explains as they climb down until they reach a room, a mirror of the one upstairs, but much dimmer, yet not unpleasantly so. There are shelves of books neatly lined up against the walls and two reading chairs in a corner. “All the other doors... well you really don't want to open them.”

“I'm sorry,” Joonmyeon begins when they step on the third, and last, flight of stairs that lead to the ground floor. “But where is Kris?”

Chen is busy looking through all the cabinets and drawers in the room to really pay much attention to him. 

“Jiaheng? He is out, but don't worry! He left you in good hands!” he then grabs a scrap of paper from under a jar of what looks like pickles and stills, looking at Joonmyeon from head to toe. “That won't do, though.” he murmurs, probably more to himself. 

He scurries from one side of the room to the other, gathering bottles and jars and books on the table pushed against the wall near the door. That leaves Joonmyeon awkwardly standing on the last step of the stairs not sure what to with his hands, and feet and with the whole of himself, really. The more awake he is the more questions pop up in his mind. Where the fuck is this place? What is he still doing here? How can he go back? Can he go back? What does he need help with?

“I'm going to put a hiding spell on you,” Chen is standing in front of him, with his hands on his hips and a seraphic smile on his face. “And don't worry, once I'm done you will be able to go back home.”

 _Get yourself some tea_ , Chen tells him as he sets off to work humming under his breath as he does. Joonmyeon takes it as his indirect permission to go through the cabinets trying to find a cup and a teabag. The first cabinet he opens has all sorts of envelopes, opened and not, green, yellow, blue, big, small, some are slightly burned on the edges. From the brief glance Joonmyeon lets himself take he can see different addresses and different addressees, scribbled with fountain pens, typewriters and printers.  
He closes that one and quickly goes through the others finding all different kinds of herbs and bottled things he really doesn't care to identify. When he opens one of the lowest cabinets, crouching down on his knees, he finds it completely empty. It is weird after how full and stuffed all the others were. Rationally, he should close the door and go on to the next, the water is probably about to boil, but something stops him from doing what his mind tells him. There is something there, he feels it, and whatever thing that is it makes the tip of fingers tingle with the need to touch it. So he does, slowly reaching in the slight darkness inside the cabinet, and what happens next has him gasp. It's like dipping his fingers in a dark dark lake, they disappear inside the cabinet, creating creases on the invisible surface that seems to be dragging them in. 

“I see you found our portal,” Chen's voice startles Joonmyeon who whelps and almost smashes his hand in his haste to close the cabinet's door. Chen laughs at him, hiding his amusement behind his hand. “Don't worry, it wasn't really hidden anyway. It leads to the faerie world, a very nice place where it's always spring and flowers sing! Cups are up there.”

Joonmyeon follows Chen's finger to a drawer much to high for him to reach without a scale or a chair. 

“Jiaheng is funny like that,” is the explanation Chen gives, sighing, as he drags over a chair for Joonmyeon to climb on. “Teas are in that basket there, pick whichever.”

Chen goes back to his table and Joonmyeon, remembering his manners, manages to brew two cups of what smells like apple tea. There weren't labels on the bags, just weird doodles Joonmyeon had a hard time deciphering. He brings the second cup over to the table where Chen has been working all this while, careful not to spill anything. 

“Thank you,” Chen whispers, taking the tea from Joonmyeon's hands with a grateful smile. “It's done, you should put it in your tea.”

Chen slides over the little pot that contains the solution to all of Joonmyeon's problems. It's a grey powder, so unremarkable one could almost think it were mere dust. Joonmyeon feels a little queasy, uncomfortable with the idea of wizardry being practiced on him. 

“Are there some contraindications to this thing? Like acid reflux... headaches... death?” 

Chen shakes his head. “I swear it's fine. You'll have to trust me.”

“What if I don't take it?” 

“I can't force you, Joonmyeon, but believe me when I say that now you need all the help that you can get.” Chen looks at him earnestly, gone are the traces of mischievousness and deceit, he looks like he really believes this will help Joonmyeon. Yet it's not enough. He has never been one to blindly trust the first newcomer, and adding the whole world-hopping and hunters chasing him to the pile Joonmyeon is all the more reluctant to take the spell. 

“These hunters are not from this world,” Chen grabs a book from the pile and starts to flip through the pages. He stops on a picture, a flowery frame covers the margins, while in the middle of it stand two curved figures, dark and with little white eyes. “This here,” Chen explains tracing the frame with his finger, “Is a bounding spell, these two are two specimen of those that broke inside your apartment. They are invisible outside of their dimension and exploit that to hunt down magical creatures. You don't really want them coming after you, and if they think you can get them to Jiaheng they will.”

He barely escaped once, and only because Kris was there to get him out just in time, if he had been alone things would have played out a lot differently,  
Chen seems to feel his discomfort and drags him away from the table towards the fire. He sits them both on a sofa made for one that has them seat almost one on top the other. The fire helps soothing Joonmyeon's nerves and he takes a tentative sip of his tea, while Chen rearranges his robe so that it almost covers them both. 

“It's magic,” he whispers, when Joonmyeon looks at the growing amount of fabric. “I weaved it many years ago.”

It's soft and the golden flowers seem to come to life under the flicking light of the fire. Joonmyeon lets Jongdae tuck him in like a child and silently is grateful for nonchalant way in which Chen drapes an arm around his shoulders.

“This house too is magic, right? From the outside it's so... ordinary, small, but inside...” Joonmyeon gestures uselessly around. “Are all houses here like this?”

“No,” Chen blows on his tea, but doesn't drink it. “When I was chased out of my old home I didn't really like the idea of packing so I decided to move the whole house.”

He looks around the room, with some sort of nostalgia teetering at edge of his eyes. Suddenly, with the fire projecting crimson shadows on his face, Chen looks much older, almost ancient, a relic of a long gone past that runs ahead with his hands outstretched trying to get a hold on the present. The lines that adorn his eyes are much more prominent, the upturn of his lips that looked so amused before now it's almost sardonic, craved there so long ago that it can never be otherwise. 

“Jiaheng came much later,” he mumbles then, putting the tea aside, untouched. “He was very reckless, thought the world of himself and so little of all the others.”

“Why do you call him that?” 

“Jiaheng?” Joonmyeon nods and Chen shrugs. “That was his name when I met him and I really can't bother to remember all the others he insists on using.”

“Where is he now?” Joonmyeon asks again, burrowing further into the soft fabric. 

“I think he will be back shortly,” Chen answers, smiling a little. Then, with practiced ease he unfastens his obi and shrugs off his vest, making Joonmyeon almost jump out of the sofa. He is not naked, though, much to Joonmyeon's relief, but he is wearing a white nightgown with purple lilies hand drawn all over. It glimmers, making a seductive swishing sound as Chen walks towards the table. “You should drink this before he does.”

Sighing Joonmyeon hands over his cup of tea, he went this far might as well go all the way. Chen mixes the dusty spell and adds a sprinkle of dried mint leaves.

“Hides the bad taste,” he explains. “Drink up!”

Despite Joonmyeon's skepticism it actually tastes good, not heavenly, but nice. He drinks it all in two long sips because he fears he might change his mind, and when he's done Chen takes his cup and puts it in a marble sink Joonmyeon hadn't really paid attention to before. 

“I think I might be hungry,” he mumbles. 

“Let's see what we can do!” Chen clasps his hands together and sets off to prepare. 

 

Kris doesn't come back that night. Joonmyeon eats the delicious soup Chen prepared, with squares of roasted and oiled cereal bread. They sit by the fire, chatting, until Joonmyeon feels his eyes start to drop.  
Chen sends him off to bed with a spare checkered pajama and a pink toothbrush with a small tub of toothpaste in a small plastic bag, travel size. 

“Remember, bathroom is the third door on the right,” he warns.

He had forgotten, but what interests him the most now is: “You have toothbrushes?” 

“What do you take us for?” Chen chides, pushing Joonmyeon up the stairs. 

Joonmyeon falls asleep watching the lights of the city as they filtered through the window, hitting the dream-catcher that seems to shine like a small star. 

 

“This wasn't supposed to happen.” is the first thing Joonmyeon hears, still half asleep and not really ready to open his eyes just yet. Even through the fog that clouds his mind, he recognizes Kris' voice. 

“What went wrong?” there is a strain to Kris' voice Joonmyeon doesn't like. He sighs, turning on his side and forcing himself to wake up. As soon as he opens his eyes he hears a gasp coming from the two figures standing beside his bed. 

Chen is hugging his chest, while Kris has his hands on his hips and an exasperated frown on his face. 

“Good morning, Joonmyeon. How are you feeling?” Kris bends down a little, getting eye level with him. 

“Wha-.. what?” there is something wrong with his voice. It's not his voice, it's too high-pitched even with the rawness of sleep still clinging on to it. “Something is-...” 

He tries to sit up and finds that the bed as gotten considerably bigger during the night. It must be the only explanation because if last night he fit nicely in it, while this morning his feet barely reach the middle of it. He makes to rake a hand through his hair, but he stops short when he notices how stubby and short his fingers look. 

“What. The. Fuck.” he is about to have a stroke, he can feel it coming, this time it's for real. “What the hell did you do to me?”

He turns to the magic duo who was supposed to help him, and finds an awkwardly reassuring smile and a pouty frown that doesn't really tell him anything. 

“You know when you asked for contraindication?” 

Apparently, or at least in Chen's opinion, Joonmyeon is so emotionally stunted that the spell made him revert back to his childhood. The knowledge is not comforting in the least, nor is Chen's vague answer about when he is going to turn back to his normal, tall, self. He hears Kris snigger when he says 'tall', but doesn't dignify him with a comment in light of the more pressing matters at hand. 

“Hiding is not just about obscuring your presence, sometimes if something is wrong within you, if you are hiding a part of yourself, things can get mixed up. Magic works its own way, we can never fully control it,” is how Chen explains the mishap. 

There are eggs and bacon for breakfast, Joonmyeon really isn't hungry, but if he's going to he might as well do it on a full stomach. He had to be fucking lifted to sit on the chair and Kris had dug out two pillows for his to reach the table. Joonmyeon really fucking hates this. 

“At least am I safe from those mad hunters or not?”

“Yes, you are. You don't have to worry about that, they won't ever be able to find you.” Kris' hand on his tiny shoulder is comforting as much as it looks incredibly large. 

To cheer him up a little Kris offers to take him on a tour of the town. Feeling nervous and disagreeable, Joonmyeon thinks about turning down the offer, but there is really nothing that moping around the house will solve. So, he accepts the new clothes Kris offers and off they go to explore.  
The crowd is still as thick as it was when Joonmyeon first arrived two days prior. A shiver runs down his spine when he thinks he has been living in this madness for two whole days. Zitao is probably having hourly panic attacks just imagining the worst case scenarios. How is he going to explain his disappearance?  
Lost in his thoughts, he lets Kris take his hand and lead him around. The crowd is as cheerful as it was, but from his new height Joonmyeon can't really see anything. There are other kids, running between adults legs with swiftness Joonmyeon can only wish he had. Pushed and shoved around, Joonmyeon clings onto Kris, not willing to give in and ask to be held.  
The Muses pass then by, the flowers on their crown are beginning to wilt, but their singing is still as melodious. The crowd opens for them and Joonmyeon notices some people throwing petals at their feet. Only now he notices that they are barefooted and walking on a road of flower petals that people keep throwing, pulling them out of their pockets and purses. 

“Today is the last day,” Kris half shouts. “The flowers will die at sunset and the Muses will throw the crowns in the river for good luck.”

A little girl in a purple dress shoves a pink dahlia in Joonmyeon's hands, she mumbles something Joonmyeon doesn't catch and then runs after the Muses, handing out flowers. 

“You have to throw that in the river and make a wish,” Kris explains. 

“Another one?” Joonmyeon scoffs, stuffing the flower in his breast pocket. 

Kris laughs at him and drags him away. 

 

To avoid getting Joonmyeon lost or stomped over in the crowd, Kris takes him to the elevated station of the cable-car. Even the railings are decorated with flowers and white ribbons. From there Joonmyeon can see royal palace, he hadn't noticed the day before, a majestic building standing proudly with its back towards the meadow. The facade is covered in blue lapis lazuli tiles, and the windows are all wide open with flowers spilling over like waterfalls. 

“Where are we going, exactly?” Joonmyeon dangles his feet from the bench they are sitting on waiting for the next cable car. With the festivities still on there are only few people on the platform. 

“You will see,” Kris sing songs. 

He picks at his cotton pants, they're baby blue and very nice, if not a little short at the ankles, along with the white button up and the bow-tie Chen insisted he _had_ to wear, it makes him feel six and hostage of his grandmother fashion sense again. At least his hair are not waxed. 

“Where have you been?” he asks. 

“I had some things to take care of,” is the crippled answer. “Did Chen say anything?”

Today Kris' hair is of a bright blonde, his eyes as light as ice. He looks good, glowing almost. He's the kind of handsome that has Joonmyeon's inside dance conga while his brain tries to catch up with what his rebelling body is trying to tell him. Attraction has always been such a weird thing to him. Like a bulb of light turning on and off and on again inside his stomach, until Joonmyeon forgot to turn it off and it burned him.  
Kris is the kind of attractive that makes the wires short-cut and the bulb explode from the force of it. Joonmyeon really wants to punch it. Punch away all this feelings and go back to his old body and old life. But if his normal-sized fists would barely shake Kris, he really doubts that this miniature cannon balls could do much harm. This happened because he felt the need to be charitable with a random dragon-man that fell upon him from the sky in the fashion of a fallen star, bearing wishes that backfired and that lead him to be a tiny, joke version of himself. 

“He might have said something about you being a really big jerk in the past,” Joonmyeon shrugs. Kris rises a brow and looks expectantly at him. “He also said you've gotten better.” 

“You're particularly feisty today,” Kris notes with a slight smile on his lips. 

“I'm sorry, I'm not peachy about the sudden resizing,” he explains with an ironic smile. 

“Sorry about that,” Kris says, sounding only partially sorry and definitely entertained by Joonmyeon's discomfort. “If it helps once I was turned into a statue.”

“A statue?” 

The cable car slows down, coming to a stop right in front of them. Joonmyeon hops off the bench and instinctively grabs Kris' pants' leg, being this little makes him paranoid about people walking over him. His usual, unremarkable height now sounds like a dream.  
The car is controlled by a tiny man that sits on a stool behind the levers that make cable car go up and down. His face is round and wrinkled, completely taken over by his ridiculously big arched nose. When he smiles he shows two rows of perfect teeth, and the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth rise like a theater curtain. 

“What do we have here?” he says in a cooing voice, when Joonmyeon jumps over the gap between the platform and the car. “That is a nice bow-tie, my good man.” 

Joonmyeon self-consciously fiddles a little with the burgundy red bow-tie, pulling at it a little. 

“He's my cousin. I'm bringing him to see the faeries,” Kris says conversationally, giving the man a few coins for their tickets. 

“Oh, the faeries,” the man says, _winking_.

They sit at the end of the car, under the biggest window. Kris puts his arm around the back of Joonmyeon's seat and smiles when he sees his little cousin start when the cable car stutters to life. 

“You said you were turned into a statue?” Joonmyeon smoothly changes subject. 

“Yes, I was. Time goes awfully slow when you are a paperweight,” Kris looks out of the window, fair like the epitome of the hero of any shoujo manga Joonmyeon's sister used to buy and Joonmyeon read sitting between the washing machine and the hamper in the laundry room. His sister never was a fan of sharing. 

“Why were you turned into stone?” 

“I'm told I used to be a really big jerk, I guess that's why,” he looks really happy with himself as he says so, looking at Joonmyeon with a smug smile. “Chen bought me at a flea market, he thought I'd make a nice knickknack.” 

“How did he find out you weren't actually a knickknack?” Joonmyeon asks, eyes wide.

“Oh, that he knew right away. He is funny like that,” Kris sighs, resignedly, much like Chen had done the day before. “He was the one that turned me back, but once I was myself again it was clear that something was amiss.”

The cable car sways gently as it climbs up. Under them the houses get sparser and sparser until there is only the vibrant green of the foliage of the trees. Joonmyeon stands on his knees, gripping Kris' arm to steady himself and looks down, enjoying a little the way his stomach twists when he sees how high they are. He would like to ask more about what exactly was amiss, but he has the feeling Kris wouldn't answer and he doesn't want to burn all his chances of having him open up by coming on to strongly. 

“You see that clearing over there?” Kris asks, pointing at Joonmyeon's right. “What does it look like to you?”

“It's... more like... I'm not sure, I was never good at games like this.” when he was little and his friends pointed out dogs and burger eating men, Joonmyeon randomly pointed his finger and said the first thing that came to his mind. The other kids found him weird, his teachers described him as imaginative. 

“You see the small circle there? Then the big lump and the arrow?” Joonmyeon nods along. “It's the shape of a giant. The circle is the head, the arrow are his bent legs.”

“What would a giant be doing there?” he kind of sees it now. 

Kris chuckles and puts a hand on his back. “His name was No, he came from a faraway land looking for a home for his wandering heart. After walking countless steps, he decided to rest for a little while on the top of that mountain over there,” he nudged Joonmyeon to look on his left, pointing to a mountain with a bald flat top. 

“He was very tired, his wandering heart couldn't wander for much longer, and No knew that he had to find a place for it rest. Then, beyond the adjacent mountain, he saw this valley, and his wandering heart stopped wandering, because it had found its home,” Kris looks down, where the form of the giant No lays on the gentle slope of the mountain. “He laid down right there and his heart slowed and slowed, tuning with the gentle swaying of the trees. And like that he fell asleep.”

“Is it a nice way of saying he died?” 

“No didn't die, when he was rested enough he woke up and started to plant more trees,” a very anticlimactic ending. 

The nice driver waves them off with a _good luck!_ And Joonmyeon indulges him with a smile and a wave. Kris guides him off the platform, towards a gravelly path that disappears between the trees. It's a little uneven and Joonmyeon reluctantly accepts Kris' hand when the dragon kindly offers, after he trips for the umpteenth time. 

“Where are we going?” 

“To see a friend,” Kris seems a little nervous. When Joonmyeon catches his eyes they are of a dull grey, but his smile seems genuine and Joonmyeon wants to trust him. “He's not a very agreeable person.” 

“You plan on using me as a shield?” Joonmyeon asks humorously, but starts to doubt himself when Kris doesn't answer right away. “Are you?”

“No! He's... I... wanted moral support,” Kris sighs, defeated. 

The path narrows before it widens and starts climbing up towards a house nestled between the biggest trees Joonmyeon has ever seen. From the chimney of the house a line of pearl white smoke rises, signaling someone must be inside. Joonmyeon lets Kris hold his hands as they approach the house, telling himself that is Kris the one who needs it the most.  
The door of the house opens on its own accord, startling them both and revealing a short, pale boy, who scrutinizes them from head to toe with a deep and menacing frown. Under his gaze Joonmyeon feels himself shrink even more, but wills his shoulders to remain straight and when the big black eyes of the boy stare into his he makes an effort not to avoid them.  
Kris looks thoroughly and completely uncomfortable. 

“You're back,” the boy says with a voice much deeper than what Joonmyeon would have imagined. “Again.” he sounds very annoyed and Joonmyeon is really glad not to be on the other end of that stare. 

“Yes, I am,” Kris seems to be trying to keep his cool, but Joonmyeon can feel his grip tighten on his little fingers.

“You bought a... ” the boy – or maybe just a very short man – looks at Joonmyeon with a mixture between curiosity and repulse. “...a human? Well, he will have to do.”

“Do what?” Joonmyeon asks, turning to look at Kris, who doesn't seem to know more than he does.

“You said nothing about him doing anything, Kyungsoo,” Kris' protest is feeble, yet his whole body is tense. 

Kyungsoo out-right laughs at his face. “I don't think you are in any place to argue with me, dragon.”

“What are we exactly doing here?” 

“You didn't tell him?” Kyungsoo's tone is mocking.

“He didn't need to know,” Kris' hand stopped trembling and now it's firm, holding onto Joonmyeon's possessively. 

“Stop ignoring me! Know what? What is going on?” Joonmyeon tugs at Kris' hand with both of his, trying to get his attention.

Kris scoffs, a little annoyed by Joonmyeon's outburst. “Kyungsoo is No's fifth descendant. No was the one who turned me into stone.”

“What? You said No was a giant,” _Kyungsoo is clearly not_ , goes unsaid.

“Well Kyungsoo is of a more convenient size,” Kris says with a deceivingly sweet smile. “Small enough to be the perfect thorn my side.” 

The silence that follows is even scarier that the low rumble coming from Kyungsoo and the ground shaking under their feet. Throwing away his pride Joonmyeon clings onto Kris' leg with all his might, fisting the beige fabric in his tiny hands. 

“Maybe we would have a better chance at coming out of this alive if you didn't anger him,” Joonmyeon offers, but Kris seems to engrossed in his staring contest with Kyungsoo to really pay attention to him. 

“You shouldn't have come.” is what Kyungsoo says before Joonmyeon feels himself being forcefully pried away from Kris' leg. He falls on his ass, which hurts, but he manages to get upright just in time to see Kris fall on the ground, convulsing. 

“What did you do to him!?” he is screaming in the face of the scariest little person he's ever seen, for all he knows Kyungsoo could make his brain implode just by looking at him. Yet, Kyungsoo doesn't even deign to look at him, his eyes are fixed on Kris.  
When Joonmyeon turns to look, Kris isn't there anymore, his dragon from having taken over, a pearl white water dragon lays in his place. Everything is still for a long moment, Joonmyeon can feel his stomach drop under his feet with fear and worry, expectantly waiting for Kris to move.  
On that fated rainy day he hadn't gotten the chance to properly look at Kris in this magnificent form. His scales reflect all the coulors of the rainbow when the sunlight hits them, and the two horns coming out of his head curve beautifully revealing all the years Kris has spent in this worlds.  
When Kris finally opens his eyes, Joonmyeon lets himself take a relieved breath. It doesn't last for long, though. 

“He's not himself now,” Kyungsoo whispers to Joonmyeon. “He's just a beast and he's going to kill you and eat your remains whole.”

This is very comforting, Joonmyeon thinks to himself, shivering at how calculating and cold Kyungsoo's voice is.

“Unless... ” Kyungsoo doesn't need to smile for Joonmyeon to know that he is greatly enjoining all this. “Unless you kill him first.”

Kris has completely awakened in the mean time, and he doesn't look like he has any idea of who Joonmyeon is beyond the obvious label of 'food' he has on. His eyes are blue like the water of a clear stream ad watch Joonmyeon with rapt attention probably waiting for his first move.  
Small, defenseless Joonmyeon, has never felt so terrified in whole is life than when Kris opens his fangs, showing his razor sharp canines, and emitting a low guttural sound that sound a lot like _'ready or not I'm coming for you'_.  
Then he does the first thing that comes to his mind, he runs for cover. Running as fast as his legs will carry him, Jonnmyeon makes a dash for the forest, taking advantage of Kris' initial disorientation. He can feel the air around him move with the force of Kris' muscles as he pulls up his lean body and flies behind Joonmyeon. He ducks under one of the strong roots of the three that hugs Kyungsoo house and winches when he feels the wood creak and break with the force of the dragon's impact.

“Shit,” he curses, fitting his body between the thick roots, trying to put as much distance between him and the dragon as he can. He can't hope to run forever, though.  
He slides down a root and reaches the ground. He can still hear Kris munching away wood, trying to get to him. Stealthily he hides himself under a bush trying to catch his breath. There must be something he can do to make Kris turn back into a human, or at least come to his senses, but nothing comes to his mind. All he can think about is his body shredded to pieces and those sharp white fangs stained with his blood.  
He's not a knight in shining armor, he's not Chen with his magic tricks, he's just a _human_ , a _child_ , fragile, defenseless.  
A piercing growl makes Joonmyeo's hair rise, but before he can crawl out and run, the bush is eradicated and thrown off in the distance. He can feel his heart climb up his throat when he finds himself face to face with a very angered water dragon. He scrambles back, tripping on a fallen branch and so miraculously avoiding the deathly ice jet that comes out of Kris' nostrils. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!?” he squeaks, crawling backwards on his hands and feet, feeling cornered and scared to death. He's so terrified that he throws away all caution and holds his ground. 

“You fucking jerk! I'm going to die and it's all your fault! You are the biggest asshole I've ever met! You and your fucking wishes!” with his squeaking voice, it comes out more like a cat meowing, yet he is not deterred, especially when Kris is actually frozen watching him. Already totally out of his mind, Joonmyeon starts to growl.  
It barely lasts a split of a second before Kris lunges for him again. Joonmyeon sees the muscles under the scales ripple with the force of it, then closes his eyes and waits for the impact.  
He has to admit that it is a lot different than what he had imagined. It hurts, sure, hurts a lot. The moment his back hits the ground he feels the breath knocked out of him and he is almost sure he has cracked a few ribs, but that's it. His flesh isn't torn, claws don't rip his limbs and most of all there is no dragon.  
When he cracks his eyes open what he sees is not a white water dragon, but Kris, flesh and bones. His hair is deep black, but his eyes are so clear Joonmyeon can see himself in them, and they are smiling. and his arms, bracketing Joonmyeon's head, shake from the effort of keeping himself up. 

“Sorry,” Kris' voice is gravelly, strained. 

Then, as it has become customary for him in this story, Joonmyeon faints.

 

When he wakes up Joonmyeon is back home, in Chen's home, in his usual bed. He wakes alone, and is pleasantly surprised when he sees that he is no longer a child. Glad to finally feel comfortable again in his body, Joonmyeon spreads his arms and legs like a starfish and basks in the feeling of being fun sized, but at least adult. After a while of life changing ponderation, though, he gets hungry, so he wobbles down the three flight of stairs, hoping that at least one of his hosts are in, because he doesn't really feel like raking the whole room looking for something edible.  
The sight that greets him, especially after all that happened the day before, is surreal. Putting aside the, not really secondary fact, that the room Joonmyeon has become accustomed to in the past few days is not there anymore, what shocks him the most is seeing Kyungsoo sitting at the table, eating breakfast merrily with Chen and Kris. 

“Did we word hop yesterday? Is this some sort of weird parallel upside down world?” he keeps a safe distance, halfway down the stairs. “And what's with the room?”

The fireplace has been moved to the side, incorporated into the wall on his right, while table is now in the middle of the room with the happy trio eating what looks like a buffet.

“Kyungsoo wanted to apologize for yesterday, so he brought food,” Kris has his plate full and Kyungsoo actually smiles shyly when Joonmyeon directs his attention to him.

“I really don't understand ho-... ”

There is a low rumble coming from the chimney, like something is stuck inside and is trying to climb back down, very noisily. A thump, a stomp, a couple of bums and whatever was stuck falls down in a cloud of smoke and ashes... coughing. The tall gangly guy standing in front of the fire shakes his head to get rid of the dirt and ashes out of his fiery red hair. 

“The chimney is fine, the fire is reignited and will be fine till the next renovation.” he pats his clothes, rising little puffs of dust. 

“Thank you, Chanyeol,” Chen waves him over to the table, handing him an empty plate. “Come on Joonmyeon, aren't you hungry?”

Just when he thought things couldn't get any weirder. The whole table seems to take on his discomfort because they all stare at him with different grades of compassion. It's Kris who tries to explain why his boss/long time friend just popped out of the fireplace. 

“You are saying that there is a copy of each of us in every dimension? Like if I were to try and look I would find another me here?” Joonmyeon looks at Chanyeol, who looks back at him with an encouraging smile that, Joonmyeon thinks, either creeps you or makes you want to punch it with your mouth. It's a little unnerving, so he turns to Kris who looks at loss of words, for once.

“No, it's not exactly like that,” he says looking at the other three at the table, probably looking for help.

“It doesn't necessarily apply to everyone,” Chen explains, grabbing a slice of bread from the basket. “Some of has have millions of copies and some have only a handful.”

“How many other me... ” he trials off, unable to picture another himself standing in front of him, flesh and bones, without feeling faint. 

“Oh, no, there is only one of you,” Chen says noncommittally, breaking the think veil of white over the egg's yolk with a piece of bread. 

“How do you know?” he asks, furrowing his brows in confusion. 

The table goes silent, everyone turns to Chen who smiles, looking like a porcelain doll, still and emotionless, “I just do,” he says, and Joonmyeon knows it is the only explanation he is going to get. Right now, at least.

Giving up on his misgivings in favor of a nice breakfast, Joonmyeon takes a seat between Kris and Kyungsoo. 

“I'm Chanyeol,” the guy introduces himself, as if that would make Joonmyeon feel better. “The chimney cricket.” 

There is a moment of silence. Joonmyeon is glad he hasn't started eating yet, because he'd be suffocating now. While Chen and Kris share his speechlessness, Kyungsoo swats Chanyeol on the back of his neck.

“Eat your food and shut up,” he says, icy cold, and Joonmyeon has a very unpleasant flashback. 

After breaking the awkward silence with a collective laughter at Chanyeol's expense, breakfast proceeds with small talk and sounds of munching.  
Kris seems well bent on  
Between a slice of ham and a sip of coffee, Joonmyeon discovers that Chanyeol is a phoenix that part-times as a chimney sweep, while Kyungsoo is a giant for only a sixth. 

“Didn't do me much good,” he sighs, making Chanyeol laugh maniacally. 

“All these years... never learnt his manners,” he tuts, but he sounds more amused that actually disturbed by Chanyeol's loudness. 

Kyungsoo is also the only left descendant of No the giant, he had obligations towards his ancestor, nothing personal, really. 

“Why did No turn you into stone, again?”

Kris coughs, “It was so long ago... I-... I really don't remember... ”

“You froze his garden,” Kyungsoo supplies. “Because his flowers made you sneeze.”

“Oh,” Kris looks really ashamed of himself, but probably that was Kyungsoo's point. “I did that. So he turned me into stone and cursed me. He was really mad.”

“He made it so that he wouldn't be able to turn into a dragon without losing his mind,” as he says so Kyungsoo looks impossibly smug, as if he had been the one to come up with the curse. “But you don't have to worry about that anymore, curse was lifted, thanks to you!”

“Me?” Joonmyeon really doubts he could have consciously done anything to break a curse, given he had known a curse was there o begin with.

“You, my man,” Chen smiles proudly. “Reached out for this idiot's conscience and gave me enough time to break the curse.”

Apparently Joonmyeon had really been about to die, if not for Chen's timely intervention that had stopped Kris from ripping his head off his neck. The thought makes him unconsciously rub his neck. 

“All is well what ends well, right?” Chanyeol says smiling a little too much for comfort.

 

“So,” Kris has his hand on the handle of one of the doors on the second floor. “This is it.”

A knock and when Kris will open the door on the other side there will be Joonmyeon's living-room, his old life. He has spent four days in this crazy world, hoping to go back to his dull routine, but now he's hesitant. 

“I'm sorry for... you know, all of this,” he sounds genuinely apologetic.

“No, it was... fun, in the end... almost deathly, but fun,” he rambling, the light bulb is about to explode and these are the last moments they have together. 

“I'm glad you say so.”

This, Joonmyeon realizes, is one of those stand still that in all rom-coms push one of the two main characters to confess their undying love, or to pop _the_ question, because they would regret staying silent far more than being rejected. No one ever gets rejected at the end of rom-coms.  
Joonmyeon, though, is not Kate Winslet, probably the most romantic thing anyone did for him was write the wrong the address on a delivery of roses. When the flower shop had sent another delivery boy to get the flowers back, Joonmyeon had ignored the knocking and kept the flowers on the windowsill of his kitchen. 

“So, I guess I'll see you when I see you,” he blurts out, cutting the moment short, because that's what happens when you are Kim Joonmyeon the least likely to be starring into any rom-com. 

Kris nods, knocking on the door. Joonmyeon's heart stills as the door creaks open, revealing his apartment just like he left it.

“You never know, I might fall from the clouds when you least expect it,” the joke is weak, but Joonmyeon laughs a little anyway. 

“Yeah, try not to do that again, please,” he jabs back easily.

He takes a step in his apartment and feels his stomach drop and his head spin, world-hopping sickness. Kris seems to reach for him, but Joonmyeon takes another step ahead and waves. 

“I'll see you,” he says.

Kris nods and closes the door.

 

 

It's eight in the morning when Joonmyeon hears a loud rapping on his door. He is drinking a nice cup of coffee from his brand new coffee-maker, already dressed for work. Zitao texted him to get him and Chanyeol something to drink on his way to work because they are running extremely late and on three hours of sleep. He really doesn't want to know what those two are up to after-hours, but he is pretty sure that if either of them were to end up in jail, Joonmyeon would be the one called to bail them out.  
Sehun brought his mail, and a notice for a maintenance work on the common laundry room on Monday morning. 

“Oh, hyung, is that the stray?” Sehun is looking at Joonmyeon's feet, where a milky white cat is patiently sitting, waiting for Joonmyeon to be done. 

“Yes, it is. He's cute, right?” 

When Kris brought him back to his world not even a minute had passed and his door was back on its hinges. It was like nothing had happened. Kris said it was to preserve the secrecy of the other world. Walking out of his house the morning after, Joonmyeon felt different, weird, not really sure what to do with the mind-blowing knowledge he had acquired in the span of so little time. 

“Beautiful,” Sehun cooed, bending down to per the cat on the head.

“Come over to play sometime, I'm sure he'd be happy to have some company beside me.”

At this offer Sehun's whole face lights up. “What's his name?”

Joonmyeon gives a look to the feline stubbornly pushing his head against his calf in a futile attempt at pushing him back in. he smiles condescendingly and bends to pet the cat behind the ears.

“It's Yifan.”


End file.
